Men Are From Mars, Women From Venus
by Cyberwolf
Summary: ...and Domon's probably from a planet not even in the solar system. As will be evidenced by the following conversation.


(scene: interior of Domon's corelander. Domon and Rain are driving back from dinner and a movie out. They are dressed fairly casually. Domon is concentrating on the road; Rain is gazing abstractly out the window)

Rain: (suddenly) Do you realize that, as of tonight, we've been seeing each other for exactly six months?

(silence)

Domon: Huh.

(more silence)

Rain: (thinking) Does it bother him that I said that? Maybe he's been feeling confined by our relationship; maybe he thinks I'm trying to push him into some kind of obligation he doesn't want.

Domon: (thinking) Six months. Wow.

Rain: (thinking) Why won't he say anything? Is he thinking that all the times he saved my life at the risk of his own and the intense bonding experience that we had as a result of the Gundam Fight should render such things unnecessary? Now that I think about it, _shouldn't it? He came riding to my rescue, having every reason not to, like a knight in shining armor…_

Domon: (thinking) So that means we started going out – let's see – _February_ – I brought the corelander in for maintenance then, which means… (checks the odometer) I need to bring this in for an oil change.

Rain: (thinking) He's upset. I can see it on his face. He must be upset about how I can't believe in him, even with all that he's done for me. I _do, _I _do, it's just…_

Domon: (thinking) And I'm going to have them look at the transmission again. I don't care what those morons say, it's not shifting right. And they better not blame it on the cold weather. _What cold weather? The colony temperature-regulator keeps itself at eighty-seven degrees in the summer, and this thing is __still shifting like a damned garbage truck, and I paid those thieving cretins _six hundred credits.__

Rain: (thinking) He's angry. And I don't blame him. I'd be angry too. God, I feel so _guilty_, putting him through this – but I can't _help_ but feel insecure…there are so many reasons he wouldn't want me…what my father did, and I'm not a fighter like him, I can't understand the way he communicates through his fists…not like Allenby…

Domon: (thinking) They'll probably say that I only have a ninety-day warranty on the service. I _bet that's what they're going to say, the scumballs._

Rain: (thinking) But why won't I _trust him? I mean, he trusts _me_ to see what he doesn't say…maybe I'm being too idealistic, wanting declarations of love with chocolates and roses every single day. I mean, he's already come riding up to me on a white horse. How much more romantic can you __get? What __more can I want? I already have him, Domon – my best friend, someone I care about, someone who seems to truly care about me, a person who is in _pain_ because of __my self-centered, foolish, school-girl fantasies._

Domon: (thinking) Warranty? They want a warranty? _I'll give them a warranty. I'll take their warranty and _GOD FINGER _it__ right up their…_

Rain: Domon.

Domon: (startled) What?

Rain: (tearfully) Please don't torture yourself. I should never have…I should have seen…oh _God, I feel so… (breaks down sobbing)_

Domon: …what?

Rain: (sobbing) I'm such a fool. I know there are no chocolates. You already rode the horse.

Domon: I already rode the horse?

Rain: You think I'm a fool, don't you?

Domon: (glad to finally know the answer) No!

Rain: (sniffling) It's just that…it's that I…I need some _time._

(fifteen-second pause as Domon, thinking as fast as he can, tries to come up with a safe response. Finally he comes up with one with a reasonable chance of survival)

Domon: Yes.

Rain: (reaches out to touch his hand, deeply moved) Oh, Domon, do you really feel that way?

Domon: What way?

Rain: About time.

Domon: Oh. Um, yes.

(Rain turns to face him and gazes deeply into his eyes, causing Domon to become very nervous about what she might have to say, especially if it involves a horse. At last she speaks)

Rain: Thank you, Domon.

Domon:  Thank _you. _

(they drive in silence until he drops Rain off at her apartment, where she lies on her bed, a tortured, conflicted soul, and weeps until dawn.)

(Domon arrives back at his apartment, opens a bag of chips and a can of beer, turns on the TV, and is immediately engrossed in the latest Brucie Chan flick)

Tiny voice in far recesses of Domon's mind: Something fairly important was going on back there.

Domon: (in response) I will never understand women.

Tiny voice: You're right. Best to forget it then.

***

**Epilogue**

***

The next day, Rain calls Sally, Bunny, Shirley, Betty, Maria Louise, Nastasha, Cecil, and – after some internal debate – Allenby on conference-call, propping up photos of her mother, Domon's mother, and her grandmother nearby, in case the spirits wish to communicate. 

Six hours later, they have analyzed everything she said and everything he said, going over it time and time again, exploring every word, expression and gesture for nuances of meaning. 

Nastasha offers to bring Domon into a Russian interrogation facility; Rain declines but thanks her. 

Allenby offers to beat Domon up for the answers; Rain respectfully declines this also.

Meanwhile, Domon brings his corelander to the dealer's; after seeing a large glowing katana Domon coincidentally decided to bring along, they give his corelander a most thorough going-over. 

*** 

this short silly fic inspired by Dave Barry's Guide to Guys. 


End file.
